Thorne leaned back in his chair, watching the soft rise and fall of Thaelyn’s chest. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist once more.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere.”
In the quiet, as sunlight crept slowly across the chamber wall, Thaelyn stirred, just slightly, just enough. The bond between storm and flame pulsed warm in the air once more.
Chapter
Thirty-One
The stillness of the guest chamber shifted with her breath, faint, shallow, and almost undetectable. Light filtered through the tall arched windows of the royal infirmary, casting soft shafts of morning sun across her face. A silver bowl of water sat on the carved oak table nearby, the surface unmoving. The ornate columns rose like sentinels in the chamber's corners, each carved with flowing dragon motifs and ancient runes that shimmered faintly under the Aether pulses still lingering in the air.
Thorne sat in the same wooden chair he had not left in days. His coat had been discarded sometime yesterday. Now, only a deep charcoal linen shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing faint, thread-thin scars from past training and recent battle. Shadows circled beneath his eyes, and his fingers curled around Thaelyn’s motionless hand as if letting go would undo everything they had risked.
A breath. Her chest rose again.
“Thaelyn?” he whispered, leaning closer, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.
Her eyelids fluttered, and her lashes trembled like wings against pale cheeks. He stood, the wooden chair creaking behind him.
A quiet moan escaped her lips. She turned her head slowly, brow furrowed in confusion as her eyes blinked open, silver blue and storm-streaked, dazed and brilliant all at once. “Thorne?” Her voice cracked, dry as old parchment.
He exhaled sharply, dropping to his knees beside the bed. “You’re awake.” The relief in his voice broke through his usual control, raw and edged with emotion.
She blinked again, as if uncertain that the world was real. “Where?”
“The palace. You collapsed after the healing. You haven’t opened your eyes in nearly a week.”
Her gaze searched his, growing clearer by the second. She turned her hand in his grasp, weak fingers brushing against his palm. “Is Darian?—”
“Alive. Thanks to you.”
She sank deeper into the pillows, exhausted by the effort of speaking. “I remember light, too much light and heat.”
Thorne touched her cheek, careful and reverent. “You pulled too much Aether. You burned yourself out.”
The door creaked. Queen Elyria entered, her silver robes whispering like water. Her pale braid hung long over one shoulder, and her storm-gray eyes softened as they fell upon the girl lying in the bed.
“You are awake,” the Queen murmured, coming to stand at Thaelyn’s side. “Thank the stars.”
Thaelyn tried to rise, but her limbs trembled too much. “Your Majesty.”
Elyria shook her head gently. “Rest, child. No courtesies. You have done more than we can repay.”
The Queen laid her hand over Thaelyn’s forehead. Aether shimmered faintly between her fingers. Then she nodded.
“She’ll be weak for a while, but her heart remains strong.” Her voice was quiet. There was something about the way she said it that made Thorne’s chest tighten.
Thaelyn’s eyes moved between the two of them. “What happened? My head is hazy.”
“You saved two lives,” Elyria answered softly. “You bridged a gap no one else could. But it came at a cost.”
Thaelyn glanced down at her hands. Pale blue veins of Aetherflickered beneath her skin, like living starlight, visible only to those who could see.
“I can feel her,” she whispered. “Nyxariel. She’s still distant, but she’s near.”
“She never left you,” Thorne said.
Elyria glanced at him, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “Your arms will be sore from the burns for a while. Take plenty of long baths, which should ease the pain. I’ll send up dinner later this evening. You will need to remain in bed for a few more days to regain your strength before you return home. I’ll give you two some privacy.”
